


Dancer’s Thighs

by Wilde Hare (casual_distance)



Category: The Lizzie Borden Chronicles
Genre: Bloodplay, Dom Lizzie, Dom/sub, Episode 2: Patron of the Arts, F/F, Grinding, Oral Sex, Power Play, Vaginal Fingering, sub Nance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-02
Updated: 2016-03-02
Packaged: 2018-05-24 08:26:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6147652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casual_distance/pseuds/Wilde%20Hare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She moves across the stage, the skin of her arms and legs exposed.  She spreads her thighs.  She touches herself.</p><p>It’s a tease to the audience, a tease for the men who stare unabashedly.  </p><p>It’s a tease for Lizzie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dancer’s Thighs

Nance takes her arm and leads her into the party. Sex and smoke and alcohol obscure the air. Lizzie inhales deeply; the smell almost makes her mouth water. The only thing missing is the scent of blood, and the thought of that perfect mix sends a shiver down her spine. Nance tugs on her arm, introducing her to this actor and that, to two women who break apart, mouths red and wet, to a man in a dress, his nipples peeking over the edge of a corset worn over nothing but bare skin.

A woman comes up to Nance, sliding her arm around Nance’s waist, fingers tracing lines on the red satin tight across her back. Nance leans into it, a movement so brief and so casual that Lizzie feels heat pool in her gut. Nance still holds her arm so Lizzie slips her hand down, catches a hint of skin just below the cuff of her dress. Nance looks over, eyes going wide, a blond ringlet falling across her cheek.

Attention lost, the woman wanders off, her hand lingering behind, as if she can't quite bear to let go. She does, though, and Lizzie holds Nance's surprised gaze. Nance pulls her hand back. Lizzie expects her to let go, but Nance only slides her fingers between Lizzie's and leads her through the crowds.

She laughs, head tilted back, hat a dangerous angle on her head. Lizzie watches, enraptured by the stretch of pale skin, the blond hair that spills from under the hat. She remembers the movement of those limbs on the stage, the spread of her legs, her pale thighs framing the red of her crotch, the fabric stretched tight over the secrets underneath.

Lizzie nearly purrs in pleasure as Nance leads her into a dark room. There's no smoke here, but there's sex and low moans and curtains that make good hiding places. Nance leads her through the room until she comes to a curtain slung partially open. She pulls her hat from her head and turns face Lizzie, chin tipped down, smile wide and beguiling. She steps backward into the secret space. Their hands stretch between them until Lizzie follows.

They fall into the pile of cushions, sending a cloud of dust into the air. Lizzie ignores it, her attention on the woman beneath her. Nance's mouth opens under hers, letting Lizzie slide her tongue inside. She tastes like wine and smoke, like the wax of her lipstick. Lizzie hums with pleasure and rolls her body against Nance's. Nance moans and Lizzie feels the spread of her legs through the thick fabrics of their skirts, movement and pressure instead of skin against skin.

Lizzie pulls back, resting on her knees above Nance. She slides her fingers along the lines of Nance’s bodice, tracing the seams, before her fingers dip past the hem of Nance’s skirt. Nance's mouth drops open. Her tongue peeks pink from her mouth. Lizzie smiles down at her, and Nance smiles back, rolling her shoulders against the cushions. Lizzie unhooks her skirt and slides it down her legs.

Nance has changed from the red underwear and now wears black satin edged with lace. Her pale skin shows through the material, and Lizzie can see where it flushes red. The smell of her sex is strong already. Lizzie touches the tip of her tongue to her upper lip and pulls Nance's skirt further down. She wears white stockings held up by garters. Nance kicks the skirt away and reaches for the garters. Lizzie catches her hand.

"No," she says. “Leave them on. You look stunning."

Nance giggles and stretches her arms above her head. She arches her back and spreads her knees, welcoming Lizzie between her thighs. Lizzie slides her hands up Nance's calves before she slips off the bed to toss her hat aside and unhook her own skirt to let it fall to the floor. Nance watches her, eyes sharp on the length of Lizzie's legs. Her own stockings go up her thighs. She wears no underwear. As Nance watches, Lizzie reaches between her legs and strokes her fingers over the folds of skin there.

She's slick already, has been since she walked into the party. Nance watches her, eyes on her hands. Lizzie curls her finger against her bud, gasping with pleasure. She rolls her head back as she works small circles against her body, each stroke a shock of pleasure up her spine.

"Lizzie," Nance whines. Lizzie looks at her, sees the way her hands reach out, the way her legs spread. She’s open and eager, but Lizzie doesn’t go to her.

"Touch yourself," Lizzie orders, and Nance does.

She slides her fingers over her underwear, pressing against herself, hips rolling. Nance gasps, head falling back.

Lizzie crawls into the bed with her and settles between Nance's legs. She rests her hands against Nance's knees and watches her fingers stroke across the satin. It grows dark with Nance's desire, and Lizzie can't help herself. She leans down and slides her tongue against the fabric, following the path of Nance's fingers. Nance gasps. Her hands fly to Lizzie's shoulders, digging in. Lizzie licks until the fabric is wet and clinging and she can see the outline of Nance's body through the satin. She sucks, once, hard, against Nance's bud. Nance moans, her back arching. Her fingers dig into Lizzie's neck and Lizzie pulls back.

Lizzie grabs Nance by the wrist, holding tight. Nance winces and Lizzie lets go.

"No marks," she tells Nance, and Nance nods.

"Sorry," she whispers. "It just felt so good."

Lizzie smiles at that. She slides her hands under Nance's corset to trace the hem of her underwear. "I'll make you feel even better," she promises. "Up."

Nance lifts her hips and lets Lizzie pull off her underwear. As hinted beneath the stretch of fabric, Nance is shaved, the folds of her body bare and pink and swollen with Lizzie’s attentions. They shine with her arousal. Lizzie leans down again and rests her cheek against Nance's thigh. She inhales deeply and reaches out to touch Nance. She traces her finger along Nance's slit. Beneath her cheek, Nance's thigh trembles.

Lizzie closes her eyes and smiles. She loves this, loves wrecking a woman, loves to reduce her to the weakness of flesh until she begs, until she lets Lizzie own her. And Nance, with her sweetness and her innocence, will be easier than most.

Lizzie feels the touch of fingers into her hair and nips at Nance's thigh.

"No touching. Hands to your side."

There's a rustle of fabric, and Lizzie knows she's been obeyed. 

"Don't hide from me," Lizzie says. "I want to hear you." 

She leans forward and licks up Nance's slit before she flicks her tongue at her bud. Nance gasps, knees parting. She's seasalt-sweet, her body opening to Lizzie's ministrations. Each slide of Lizzie's tongue has her rolling her hips against Lizzie's mouth, rocking into the rhythm Lizzie creates. Lizzie sets an arm across her hips to hold her down. She focuses on Nance's nub as she works a finger into Nance's body, switching between sucking and licking, teasing with the tip of her tongue. Nance's cries rise in pitch. Lizzie feels the touch of fingers against her hair and she pulls back.

Nance's hand hangs in the air. Lizzie catches it and pushes it down onto the bed, rising up to bear her weight down on it. Nance's eyes widen and she goes still.

"No. Touching." Lizzie tightens her fingers around Nance's wrist. Nance's mouth opens like she means to speak. Lizzie leans forward to press a finger to Nance's lips. "Don't touch me again, Nance. Do you understand?"

Nance's face flushes a deeper red. It streaks down her neck and across her chest. Nance pants, her breasts heaving under Lizzie's arm. She nods. Lizzie smiles and cups Nance's cheek.

"Good girl."

Nance takes a shuddering breath and nods again. Lizzie lowers herself between Nance's thighs and puts her mouth to her again. Nance is easier to work up this time, clearly taken by the dominance. Nance's cries rise in volume as Lizzie strokes her fingers inside, curling them to work them in tandem with her tongue against Nance's body. Nance's slick thickens. Her body trembles with each movement. Nance's thighs quiver and her feet shift restlessly against the bed. Nance makes little bird noises that get caught in her throat. Lizzie knows she's close, but she doesn't grab Lizzie again. Pride swells within Lizzie's chest for one, brief moment.

Lizzie sits back, licking her lips, and presses her thumb to Nance's bud, working tight circles that have Nance tossing her head. She presses hard and fast. Nance tightens around her fingers, her head rolling back against the pillows. Lizzie leans down again, and as Nance tips over that edge, her voice rising in volume as she shouts her pleasure, her body contracting around Lizzie's fingers, Lizzie bites Nance's thigh until she tastes blood.

She moans as that first coppery taste hits her tongue, her own body rocking with pleasure. She licks across the bite mark and watches as blood wells up fresh. Nance pants heavily, her legs slack against the bed. Her eyes are closed. Lizzie strokes inside her, sending one last shock of pleasure through Nance's body, earning a sharp gasp. Lizzie pulls her fingers free and climbs over Nance’s body. She straddles Nance's thigh and grinds down over the bite mark. She kisses Nance, smearing Nance's slick and blood across her face. She kisses back weakly, her hands still by her side. It suits Lizzie, this mewling, weak creature below her, giving herself up to Lizzie's ownership.

Lizzie rocks against Nance's thigh, grinding her nub against the muscles there, thinking of the blood that seeps up from her skin to mix with Lizzie's pleasure. Lizzie slips a hand into place, uses a finger to get pressure where she needs it. It doesn't take much after that, not with the taste of woman and wax on her lips, not with the taste of submission in Nance's kiss and the way she lays pliant against the cushions-

Not with the taste of blood across her tongue.


End file.
